


Constellations of Scars

by themoonisgay



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Depression, First War with Voldemort, M/M, Post-Hogwarts, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-26 05:13:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6225358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themoonisgay/pseuds/themoonisgay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sirius was a star that burned too bright. When he exploded, he took Remus with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Constellations of Scars

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warning: This story contains a small sex scene, somewhat graphic descriptions of violence/self-harm, and mentions of alcohol, depression, war, and death.

_"You-You alone will have stars as no one else has them... In one of the stars I shall be living. In one of them I shall be laughing. And so it will be as if all the stars will be laughing when you look at the sky at night..You, only you, will have stars that can laugh! And when your sorrow is comforted (time soothes all sorrows) you will be content that you have known me..."_

― Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince  


 

The roaring engine of a motorbike out on the street woke Remus from his nap. He stood suddenly, brushing the dust off of his worn jeans and rubbing his eyes with bruised knuckles. Walking outside, he saw Sirius jump off his bike and approach his door. Remus leant on his doorframe as if he couldn’t support himself without it.

“Cigarette?” the ragged teenager asked.

“None left, sorry,” Remus muttered, eyes drifting shut.

Sirius shrugged and walked inside. Still leaning against his doorframe, Remus watched his friend rummage around his small kitchen, opening up drawers and clanging pots and pans. Soon enough, he had a meal cooking on his old stovetop.

“You gonna stand there all day?” Sirius asked, eyeing his dormant pose.

Remus drew a breath of the cold outside air. “Hope not,” he shrugged.

“Alright,” Sirius conceded, walking up and hooking his arm around Remus’ waist. “Let’s get you to a couch.”

Remus leaned his head against his shorter friend’s shoulder and let him guide him to his couch. His knees felt as if they were about to collapse by the time he sunk into the cushions.

Sirius returned to the kitchen and began tending to the food he was preparing. “Bad moon, eh?” he asked.

“‘Cause you weren’t there,” he muttered, head leaned back and eyes closed. “Ended up hurting myself.”

“Hey,” Sirius looked over, guilt leaving an unpoppable bubble in his throat, “I’m sorry. The Order doesn’t fully know about you and it was just so last minute.”

“Yeah,” Remus swallowed.

“Are you bleeding still?”

Remus took a mental once-over of his tattered body. Besides the bruises scattered across his chest and recently opened wounds covered in bandages, he felt fine. Well, as fine as he could be. “Nah, I don’t think so.”

“Good,” Sirius said, filling two plates with hashes and eggs. He brought them over to the couch and sat down. “It’s not much, but you don’t really have much to work with.”

“It’s fine, thanks for cooking,” Remus smiled, digging a fork into his breakfast.

“Of course,” Sirius smiled back.

“Hey, if you’ve got any fags, I still have that lighter you left last week,” Remus mumbled. He looked out the window, white light streaming in from the blank winter sky. A bird flew by and landed on the sill, pecked at the glass, and flew off. Remus wished he could do the same.

“Nah, I think I’m out, but I’ll check,” Sirius answered, bringing Remus back down to Earth. His friend set his plate down on the crooked coffee table and grabbed his leather jacket. He emptied the pockets, possessions spilling out on his lap as he searched for a pack.

Remus put his plate back down on the table too and watched his friend. Noticing a pile of neatly tied up polaroids, he grabbed them quickly. After untying the yarn, he spread the memories across the couch. Remus stared at the moments of bliss flooding his lap, of James lounging around with a tie on his head, of Peter blowing bubbles, of Sirius smiling at the camera with eyes that didn’t sag from the weight of exhaustion. Remus smiled. The last summer had seemed so far long ago.

Near the end of the stack, he noticed a picture of Sirius kissing him and frowned. He was smiling, his body pressed between Sirius and a brick wall. It was dark out and glitter was stuck in Sirius’ long curls. He stared at it for minutes until Sirius turned around, a cigarette extended towards Remus. His hand seemed to freeze mid-air as he realized what Remus was looking at, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t even dare move.

Remus turned the picture around, reading the caption.

_“Moony and Padfoot, 19/7/1979. (James told me to take this, please don’t hurt me) -W”_

 Sirius stared at his friend, watching his fingers twitch. He gulped, the tension in the room so real he began to sweat. He couldn’t find the words to say, so he sat there expressionless as his friend dived into a hurricane of memories.

“What… what happened to us?” Remus finally asked, turning around and staring his past lover straight in the eyes. His voice seemed strained, as if one side of him was urging him not to ask.

Sirius broke the eye contact, staring at the polaroid with the intensity of the kiss it captured. “I don’t know,” he whispered.

Remus looked down at his lap, lips pursed tightly. He grabbed the cigarette still sitting in Sirius’ hand and lit it. Inhaling the dirty smoke, his brain seemed to clear. “War fucking sucks,” he muttered, eyes closed.

“Yeah,” Sirius agreed. He picked up his plate and continued to eat, as if that would break the tension.

Remus sat there, eyes fixed on the polaroid. His chest surged with the impact of a thousand memories hitting him suddenly. He saw him and Sirius holding hands, singing to corny songs in a beat up car, lying down in the grass as they stared at the stars.

“Do you think the stars know we’re here?” Remus had asked, clinging to his then-boyfriend and inhaling his comfortingly bitter scent.

“Yeah,” Sirius had answered, hand tucked into Remus’ curls. “‘Cause I know you’re here, and I’m the brightest star of them all.”

Remus had shoved him, a smile painted on his face. “Shut up, you corny ass,” he had said, holding him tighter.

“Mmm, maybe so. But I’m your ‘corny ass,’ Moons.”

They had both broken down into laughter, eyes gleaming in the moonlight.

Once they had quieted down, Sirius’ hand drifted around his boyfriend’s waist. He had looked up at the stars and softly said, “You know, all those stars are me, really. And they’d be lonely if they didn’t have the moon to keep them company. But the moon is there, and the moon is hilarious and brilliant and so goddamn hot. So the stars are happy, and they laugh and smile and do all those things that make them shine so brightly. Hell, you’ve got stars that laugh, Moony.”

“Guess I do, yeah,” Remus had smiled. Sirius had turned to face his moon and lifted him on top of himself. “Kiss me, Moony. Make me shine like the star that I am,” he had grinned.

Remus had kissed him, his lips gently colliding with his boyfriend’s as they laid on the top of that empty hill. His eyes were closed, and he saw a star burning too bright, too close to the moon. He saw himself burning up, flames engulfing him, as his hands drifted lower and dug into Sirius’ skin. As his partner moaned deeply, he saw a star laughing, smiling, shining a light on his desolate moon. He felt full. Heat flooded their bodies, the kiss turning intense as Sirius flipped Remus over and pressed their bodies so close together they seemed like one. Remus bit down on Sirius’ lip hard, eliciting a “Goddamnit, Moons. You’re killing me.”

Remus had grinned and pushed Sirius’ head back down onto his lips. “Good,” he had mumbled between kisses.

Sirius had mentioned something about returning to his apartment, about taking things further, about being filled to the brim with desire. They ran faster that night than they had ever ran in their lives.

Remus looked back at the clock above the fireplace in his living room. It ticked slowly and unevenly and was set back three hours early. He stood up and approached it, staring at its golden numbers as if they were the answer to his problems. The minute hand was stuck on number seven, although the other two hands continued their journey around the circle. Remus thought of fixing it, but couldn’t bring himself to. He sat back down.

Remus watched Sirius scavenge for another cigarette, intent on avoiding confrontation. He lit it and stood near the window. Sirius watched the birds fly off as Remus watched him breathe the heavy smoke. Another bird landed at the sill, as if his smoke was an unspoken message. But the bird flew away once more and the words were left unsaid.

Remus gathered up the polaroids and retied them together. Placing them on the coffee table, he stood up. “I’m going to take a nap. Feel free to stay if you want.”

Sirius turned away from the window and shrugged, “There’s nowhere else to go.”

“Right. You know where everything is. Just don’t fucking set fire to something again,” he smiled faintly.

“Got ‘cha. Sleep tight, Moons,” Sirius replied. Remus’ heart dropped at the mention of his nickname but he ignored it. He left the room and slipped into his bed, staring at the ceiling as if it was the night sky that used to connect him and Sirius together so magically. Tears danced down his unwashed cheeks.

\---

When Remus woke up, the only light was from the stray street lamps shining through his window. He got out of bed and pulled on a pair of tattered, too small pyjama bottoms. Walking into the living room, he expected Sirius to be asleep on his couch, but it was empty except for a half-full pack of cigs.

A note lay on his kitchen counter, scribbled in slanted cursive. Sirius wrote that James had called for Sirius via their mirrors, that there was an emergency out in Cardiff, that Death Eaters were tormenting Peter’s family for information, that he’d be back as soon as possible, that he shouldn’t worry because he’ll be fine. Remus felt sick to his stomach. God, he wanted to be out there defending Pete’s parents.

Dumbledore had ordered him to stay low, keep an eye on the werewolves, and be his keen surveillance, but Remus knew it was just a ploy to get the weak, always sick werewolf out of his militia. Remus scoffed.

Rummaging through his kitchen, he found a sole, dusty bottle of old wine. The bottle was from over the summer, when they were foolish and thought that mixing it with firewhiskey would have left them invincible. They were so naїve, he thought.

He poured himself a glass of the blood-red drink and sat down on his couch. The night was dark and silent and Remus wished Sirius had closed the window. The emptiness of the town crept under his skin, and he would have preferred screams to the open silence of the night. He shivered, too poor to afford heating and too exhausted to stand and shut the window. He supposed he deserved the cold. At least it left him numb, rather than overflowing with emotion.

He was beginning to like the numbness.

He took a few sips of his drink before feeling his stomach curdle up, and knew he had to stop. Throat dry and mind way too sober, he wandered his hallway. Framed pictures of his friends scattered the walls. He walked slowly, taking in the memories of each image. He saw James and Lily sitting on the rocks at Hogwarts and looking away towards the lake. He saw Pete buried alive in sand, Marlene floating in a magical bubble, Dorcas with a mustache of ice cream above her lips. He saw Sirius, sitting on his motorbike and smoking as if he was the king of the world. Remus sighed; Sirius didn’t know he was the king of Remus’ world too.

When he reached the end of the hallway, he remembered the vase he had knocked down the night before. It laid shattered on the floor, ceramic dust everywhere. He swept up the mess and tossed the remains of the vase. Sighing, he leaned against the wall. Reminiscing had worn him out.

Eventually, exhaustion overcame him, and he dropped to the floor and fell asleep in the middle of his hallway. He didn’t hear Sirius enter hours later, nor did he awake when Sirius carried him to his bed and crawled in with him, delicately holding his friend close.

Remus slept well that night.

\---

When Remus awoke, he felt an arm wrapped tightly around his waist. He turned over and wrapped his arms around his sleeping friend. Suddenly engulfed in the sea of Sirius’ hair, he inhaled. Sirius smelled like dried blood and pine, and Remus worried about just what he did the night before.

He considered waking Sirius up so he could tend to the blood caked on his cheek, but he looked so well rested. Remus hadn’t seen him look so innocent, so at peace, in such a long while. The war had really taken its toll on the both of them.

Remus lay there, gently dragging his fingers through Sirius’ hair. His hand tugged against Sirius’ battered shirt, trying to press their bodies closer together. He felt serene, finally.

When Sirius woke up, Remus’ eyes were absorbing the faint features of his face. They made eye contact. Remus looked away and bit his lip.

“How come you’re back?” he asked, trying to dance around the fact that they were closer together than they had been in months.

Sirius moaned and rubbed his eyes, taking a moment to readjust to the light. “It was a false call. Pete took his parents into hiding in Albania last night, and fucking Doge thought that ‘cause the house was empty, they were captured.”

“Christ,” Remus swore, a hand cupping Sirius’ cheek. “I mean, I love the guy, but he’s such a pain sometimes.”

“Yeah,” Sirius said. He closed his eyes and sighed, “Sorry I didn’t wake you up yesterday. Leaving a note is just, well, a fucking awful thing to do, I guess.”

“It’s fine,” Remus reassured, his grip on Sirius’ waist tightening.

Sirius looked up at Remus’ chin and kissed his jaw gently. “I saw a wine glass out when I came back. You alright?”

Remus exhaled but said nothing. There were too many things they left unsaid.

“Hey,” Sirius murmured, taking the hand resting on his cheek and threading his fingers it, “We’re alright, right?”

“Yeah,” Remus said, tightening his grip on Sirius’ hand.

\---

Remus laid on his couch, absentmindedly watching a fly buzz around his nose. He wondered how that fly was even alive, considering the cold of winter seemed to seep into everywhere. Guessing the fly had the resilience of a war tank, he swatted it away.

“Hey, you got any garlic?” Sirius asked from the kitchen, where an abnormal amount of cooking was happening.

Remus looked up and stared at his friend, who was scavenging through every drawer and ignoring the sizzling of whatever was on his pan. “Probably not,” he shrugged.

“Bloody hell, Rem,” Sirius sighed, rubbing his hands on his pants, “When was the last time you went grocery shopping?”

Remus shrugged again, now very interested in the fly that had relocated to the chair across from him.

“You know, a conversation usually needs two people to exist, right?” Sirius asked, brow furrowed.

Remus bit his lip but said nothing. Fidgeting with his hands, he watched Sirius as he sighed and turned back to the stove.

Eventually, Sirius walked over to the couch with two plates of food. He put the plates down on the coffee table, grabbed Remus’ legs, turned them so they weren’t taking up the entire couch, and sat down.

“Here,” Sirius said shortly, handing Remus his plate of filled crêpes. Remus stuck his fork into them and began eating. Neither of them spoke as they delved into their meal.

The silence was unbearable for Remus, tension lingering in the air. Remus felt like he couldn’t stomach anything, so he mindlessly moved the food on his plate around instead, only occasionally taking small bites. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Sirius stood up and put his empty plate in the sink. Slouching back down on the couch, Sirius crossed his arms. “I feel like you’re hiding something,” he whispered.

Remus suddenly felt like he was going to feel sick and coughed, choking up a bit of crepe. “Sorry, what?!” he asked, red in the face. He turned to look Sirius in the eye, lips pursed tightly.

“I don’t know!” Sirius defended, leaning away, “It’s just that, well, it seems like the only explanation of why you won’t talk to me! We were fine this morning! I just... I just don’t know what’s happening anymore.”

Remus put his face in his hand and sighed. Seething, he spoke slowly, “I’m not a fucking traitor, Sirius. I’m not fucking lying to you or hiding anything, okay? Maybe I’m just pissed off that _you_ get to go on heroic missions to save people while _I’m_ trapped here, hanging around with a bunch of greasy werewolves!”

Sirius’ face turned white. He sputtered a few swears before standing up and walking to Remus’ bedroom. Before he opened the door, he turned around and spat, “You know it’s not my fault I get these missions! And maybe if you actually went on one, you’d realize they aren’t fun! I see people die, families torn apart, I’ve risked my life countless times, and you say you _want_ to go on these? You don’t fucking understand anything.” He stormed into Remus’ bedroom and slammed the door.

Remus stood up, nails digging into his palms. He was probably bleeding, he thought, but he didn’t care. He rushed into his room and noticed Sirius sitting on the edge of his bed, cradling his head in his hands. Remus stood there at the door, staring down at him. He cleared his throat and Sirius looked up, his eyes red. Remus sighed, “Maybe you do have to deal with tough shit, but that’s still better than having to deal with this mind-numbing nothingness! Try it out for a change, see how it feels to go underground one week every month and pretend like everyone you love is your enemy, so you can get information out of werewolves with brains as big as their tonsils! They’re fucking bigots, too, you know? Swearing about how much they hate fags, how much ‘mudbloods’ get on their fucking nerves. I hate the whole lot of them. And you think I just get to lay around all day watching Muggle telly? You’re fucking full of it, Sirius.”

“That’s not what I said at all!” Sirius shouted, standing up and walking towards Remus, “And I don’t think you’ve got the easy side of things, not when you’ve got fucking lycanthropy!” he sighed and calmed down a bit, closing his eyes. “But whenever I go out there and see someone die, see someone’s lover grieve, I feel so shitty. Because I see you in every death I encounter, and I feel fucking powerless, like I can’t protect you. I don’t want you to die, Rem. And I don’t want you to have to deal with what I have to…”

“Why the fuck are you pretending like I can’t take care of myself?” Remus shouted.

Sirius backed away, putting his hands up, “I’m not! I just don’t want you to be somewhere where you _have_ to defend yourself!”

“Yeah?” Remus spat, enraged, “And you don’t think that’s how I feel about you? That I don’t cry myself to sleep whenever I hear that you’re in combat, that you’ve been injured? You think that I didn’t collapse from stress last night when I read that letter? That I’m not drinking to forget you’re not safe? Fuck you!” Remus stared at Sirius, breathing heavily from his weak lungs not taking well to frustration.

Sirius pulled at his hair, wincing. “You know what, Moony?” Sirius asked, his voice tantalizingly deep and calm. Remus gulped. “I don’t even know why you fucking care.”

Remus jolted with anger. Spitting in his face, he roared, “Because I love you!”

Sirius glared at Remus and muttered deeply, “Then fucking show it.”

Suddenly they were kissing, bodies pressed so tightly together that Remus could feel Sirius’ heartbeat through his chest. Their tongues were battling, teeth colliding unevenly. Remus bit Sirius’ lip so tightly he bled, and Sirius retaliated by pushing Remus backwards onto the bed. Remus grabbed the back of Sirius’ shirt and tugged at it. Their legs wrapped around each other as Sirius pressed his chest onto Remus’ as forcefully as they could. Their kiss deepened, teeth ripping at each other’s lips. Their hands drifting over each other’s bodies, clawing at their skin, as if they were on fire and their shared heat was fueling them.

Remus’ grip on Sirius’ shirt tightened until he pulled it over his head. Sirius swore, struggling to unbutton Remus’ shirt quick enough. His fingers shook at each button, going lower and lower. Remus thrust his pelvis upward. God, he wanted Sirius to unbutton past his shirt.

“Mmph,” Remus groaned as Sirius pulled Remus’ unbuttoned shirt off and tossed it on the floor. Sirius began his descent down. After removing Remus’ pants, Sirius absorbed himself in the werewolf’s body, caressing his skin, letting his lips cascade down his chest until he reached Remus’ boxers and slid his fingers under the waistband. Remus closed his eyes. His hands pulled on Sirius’ hair as his star shone on him, taking him in and sending a wave of pleasure downward.

When Sirius finished and Remus’ body jolted, he pulled Sirius up and underneath him, still breathing heavily. By the time Remus had prepared himself, Sirius was shivering in anticipation. Remus slowly entered him, hands gripped around Sirius’ sweaty waist.

He thrust to the pulse of Sirius’ heart, feeling as heated as the star Sirius was. Remus’ hands drifted lower and lower as he gripped Sirius’ cock and stroked. Still moving inside Sirius to the rhythm of their beating hearts, Remus closed his eyes tight, feeling Sirius inhale beneath him. His thrusts became faster and faster until Sirius’ back arched and he screamed his name, coming instantly. Remus’ body suddenly felt enveloped in starlight, sweat intermingled with cum as he slid out of Sirius and wrapped his arms around him. Sirius was out of breath and Remus sighed, his head laying on Sirius’ sweaty chest.

Rays of starlight met the glow of the moon as their bodies entangled. Sweat covered them both, and they were both breathing heavily, but they were smiling. Remus felt happy, for a change.

He looked up at Sirius and kissed his jawline gently, murmuring, “I feel like every star in the universe is shining on me right now.”

Sirius laughed, sliding an arm around Remus’ waist. “Then you’d be burnt to a crisp.”

Remus shoved him playfully and grinned, “You know what?”

“Hmm?” Sirius raised an eyebrow.

“You were right, last summer, when you said I’ve got stars that laugh. But those stars are super cocky, too.”

“What can I say? I just got shagged. I’m bound to be cocky,” Sirius said, planting a kiss on Remus’ hairline.

Remus closed his eyes and nuzzled Sirius’ shoulder, exhaling. “I’m going to sleep, you cocky star.”

Sirius smiled, placing a firm hand on Remus’ bare back and murmuring, “Good night, Moony.”

Remus closed his eyes. He knew that there were a million things they had left unsaid, that there always would be, but for a split second, he didn’t mind. He was content with the heavy silence, as long as Sirius was beside him.

\---

Remus awoke to an empty bed and felt a pit of despair land in his heart.

Sirius was nowhere to be found.

\---

Remus unveiled his grey hood and ran a hand through his greasy hair as he walked back from the werewolves’ cave. He felt grimey: blood caked onto his swollen skin and dirt concealing his several opened scars. His back ached and his lungs hurt. He wasn’t sure if he could breathe well enough to finish the walk home, but he needed to escape. He needed to escape the snarling werewolves he was forced to share a full moon with, the belittling slurs they slung at him, the overwhelming urge to maim them... The full moons were just getting rougher and rougher.

Finally, he reached his doorstep and walked inside, collapsing instantaneously onto his battered couch. He sighed. Sirius hadn’t shown his face for over three weeks, not since their last stand.

Pete had came by once to check on his health, and Remus had turned up to James and Lil’s baby shower, but besides that, his social life was excruciatingly boring.

Remus looked around his empty living room and felt lost. He didn’t know where he stood with his friends anymore. He barely heard anything about Sirius, or the war, for that matter. He was trapped in this secluded Muggle town with a werewolf outpost, far away from the people that made his life worth living. He closed his eyes and sighed. There was nothing to do but survive, so swallowing his doubts, he dragged himself off his couch and into his shower. At least he could control his hygiene.

\---

Sirius came by later that night, covered in blood and tears. Standing at his doorstep, Remus knew he was aching for intimacy, for the delusion that everything was alright. Remus led him to his shower wordlessly. He was too scared to know what had happened to his partner and knew he wouldn’t be able to share much anyway.

“Don’t trust anyone with war information,” Dumbledore had told them when they were first swarmed into the Order. “Not even yourselves."

Remus didn’t know how to feel about his boyfriend not being able to share his life with Remus. He felt as if a weight was dropped in his chest whenever Sirius opened his mouth and then closed it once more, realizing he couldn’t say what needed to be said. Sirius didn’t trust him, or himself, to talk to Remus. So when Sirius got out of the shower, they didn’t speak at all to each other. They instead glanced each other silently and knowingly, walking into Remus’ bedroom and letting their bodies replace their words.

\---

They continued this pattern of occasional visits, of dancing around their secrets, of never saying what needed to be said. Sirius would come and go; Remus would stay and wait. He absolutely hated it.

\---

By spring, Dumbledore had reassigned Remus away from werewolf espionage and into Sirius’ battle group. The change would have hit them with gratitude, had it not been he was replacing Marlene’s role. She had died in combat.

Marlene had always been a close friend of the Marauders. She had joined them in the summertime and had always been willing to go on dangerous pranks. But she had a caring side, too. She and Lily were the only ones there for Remus after the Snape incident.

“Remus, people break trust. Sometimes it’s because they feel helpless, or because it’s their last option. Sometimes it’s just ‘cause they’re really stupid. Emotional impulse is a fickle thing,” she had paused, looking down at her friend. He had been lying in the hospital wing, the cold air of dawn soothing his self-imposed wounds. The full moon was barely visible in the sky, but the pain of broken trust was completely visible on his face. Marlene had gulped and held his hand.

“But you can’t beat yourself down over someone else’s actions. What Sirius did was fucking terrible. No one deserves to be treated as a weapon.” Remus had smiled softly, then. Tears were fresh in his eyes and his throat was tight, but he knew he wasn’t alone.

Marlene had taught him that he was not an object to be used. He was his own body.

Remus remembered Marlene coming out to him during the winter of their sixth year. She had told him he was the first to know that she had been pining for Dorcas, that she felt trapped, that she felt wrong. Remus had been in the same boat, and he held her close near the common room fireplace. The warmth of the fire and Remus’ whispers that she was alright, that she was loved, that she wasn’t broken had surrounded them that night. They finally weren’t alone in their affections. Marlene trusted him. Her platonic intimacy had kept him well when he felt unsafe going to the Marauders for the comfort; she was his safety pillow, and soon became Dorcas’ too.

Dorcas killed herself a week after Marlene died.  

Their deaths left the team drained: Sirius was bitter and cold, Remus silent and undemanding. They moved from spot to spot on a whim, the other members of their team sensible enough not to disturb the tension. Sirius barely spoke. The others dared not give him a reason to speak.

He instead funneled his grief into finding Death Eaters, into aggression and anger, into ignoring the pleas of his troops. Both Sirius and the weather became harsh: the rain of spring sneaked into their tents at night, leaving them both shivering. Remus couldn’t tell whether he was shivering from the cold or his grief. It all felt the same.

On full moons, Sirius left the other members of his militia on a campground. Sirius would apparate him and Remus to a secluded forest, where the two would scramble around throughout the night. The full moons were less playful and more painful.

For the new amount of time Sirius and Remus spent together, not much more was said between the two. When they weren’t running for their lives or interrogating the suspicious, they were searching for warmth within each other. Words became meaningless. Their bodies said all that needed to be said.   

When summer came and Harry turned one, they decided to take a break from traveling the continent in search of answers. They moved back to Remus’ small cottage, trying to repair their severed relationship. They spent more time with James and Lily and exchanged their roles as battlers into planners. There was so much Order work to be done. The war overshadowed the light of summer, and Remus began to take the warmth for granted.

Summer passed quickly and the weather turned harsh. Storms ambushed his and Sirius’ cottage, and soon enough, their warmth spells were rendered useless. This dark autumn hit Remus in the face; summer had drifted away, leaving him stone-cold and bare. He was drenched in pain, scars, grief, and the stress of war. Sirius became the only source of heat in his life.

Until Halloween night, when everything seemed to hit him the chest at once. James, Lily, and Peter were all dead. The only person he had left, the one he had trusted the most, had been the closest with, had shared secrets and pain and agony and affection with- he had betrayed them all.

That night, Remus searched for all memories of Sirius in his home. He tore pictures off the wall, ransacked his drawers of clothing, snatched the pile of polaroids off his fireplace mantle. He threw them all into the street, compiling a mountain of memories and former happiness.

Remus set it all on fire.

The crumbling sound of their relationship’s remnants filled the night air. The flames danced and drifted across his flesh. He welcomed them. He soaked himself and the fire in petrol, as his shaking hands couldn’t control where the oil went. The flames grew and left burn marks scattered across his skin. The bottle of red wine in his burnt hand became his only friend. The rest were all gone.

He stood there, burnt and hurt. His tears blurred his vision and his ragged breath wouldn’t subdue. He fell to his knees. The fire was dangerously close to his body, but he didn’t move. For the first time in too long, he felt warm. But he also felt gutted out, devoid of all emotion or love.

Memories hit him like a truck, the impact shattering his chest.

He saw Sirius giggling in their bed, cuddling him as they watched telly, patching up his wounds after each full moon. He saw them running and holding hands, lounging in the common room, leaning on each as they watched the sunset. He saw them kissing in the locker rooms, in the prefects’ bathroom, in empty corridors, everywhere. His lips bled from his teeth piercing at the skin, but he didn’t mind at all. He’d rather the blood touch his lips than the ghost of Sirius’. But he couldn’t escape. Sirius was everywhere. He was in his brain, on his body. Remus could feel his gentle touch and cursed himself for loving it. He cursed himself for loving him.

He looked up and saw the stars gleaming in the cool night sky. Those stars were his curse- they were Sirius. They were his stars that could laugh. But now, they were laughing at him. They were a part of Sirius he could never burn, never destroy, and they would haunt him forever. 

His roguishness and violent wolfishness overcame him. He began clawing and biting at himself, opening up scars, piercing his new burns, dousing himself in the heat of the fire and the heat of the moment. He burnt anything and everything that cast the memory of Sirius, but mostly himself.

  
Remus never let that painful sensation leave him. It was all he had left.


End file.
